Linchpin

Poems come out of nowhere sometimes.  The farm is a great place to find poems laying around in daydreams.  Here's one that jumped out at me as I realized the work of a linchpin and how vulnerable we are to the failure of such a simple little device.  Somehow in the middle of maintaining my 1950 Allis WD, I was reminded of the value of elders in the same light.  Hope you enjoy farm work as much as I do and appreciate, as I do, how long it takes to be any good at it.

 Ron


Linchpin

The winter discontents.
Even my old Allis-Chalmers
Has seen better days
Piling snow from roads,
Alleys, corrals, stock pens
Like igloos uninhabited.

Looking down while skidding snow
Allis firing on all four,
I notice the right front wheel
Wobbling; an old man
On a bad knee like me.
I need a warming day
To unhub and pull the linchpin.
The threat of extended time
Disassembled in mid-winter is worrisome.
Once pulled the whole tractor
Waits while the bearings and races
Spindle and seals are declared
Safe or sorry.

My father died an elder not so long ago.
He took his time ending it all.
His life, one of projects, skills,
Precision thought through to the end.
I knew some of his friends, not many.
He said they all died before
He could wear himself out.
So he carried their weight forward;
The things they knew
So he didn't have to learn everything. 
Contacts are bridges;
Knowledge needed to repair, restore create anew.

He left me hardware and things his hands befriended.
He welded blindly his last year or so;
Something scarred that aiming eye retina.
He took aim dropped the hood
Sparks flew, twains did meet well enough it seemed.
As I thought again of doing without him
I realized the questions unasked anew,
Needed in days ahead as I would try
To repair, restore and create without him.
The web of characters in his working life
Gone with him that day he died.
That day he became memories incomplete,
A frame of lifeless parts disconnected,
Disassembling.

I  reassemble the wheel
All parts good enough for another chore.
I spin on the lock nut,
Greasy like me,
Reach for the linchpin and hesitate;
And begin to understand a life.